


Spiraling Into Trouble

by bluebirdishere



Series: The Maegnus Archives [2]
Category: Night In The Woods (Video Game), The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Discussion of unreality/dissociation, Mae is human in this, Sasha James Lives, TMA S2 AU, Tags will be updated as the story progresses, The Mechanisms Were The Archivist's College Band
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:55:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26961007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebirdishere/pseuds/bluebirdishere
Summary: After giving her statement, Mae returns home to Possum Springs and tries to deal with the new monster going after her
Series: The Maegnus Archives [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967455
Comments: 14
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I highly recommend reading part 1 before reading this story.

The door was there again.

It sat in Mae’s room, mocking her, daring her to enter those miserable halls with their monstrous inhabitant once more.

She didn’t know what else Michael wanted from her. She’d met that Archivist dude and given her story like Michael had wanted, so why was he still taunting her?

Well. There was the issue of the other things Michael had told her.

_“Hellloooo there, little creature”. The… man? Monster? Thing? The thing was looming over her, grinning at her with a smile wider than his face. His bright blond hair was arranged in curls that seemed to shift and pulse every time she blinked. The rest of him wasn’t much better- she couldn’t look at his face straight-on without it hurting her head, and his hands seemed sharper than the knives she and Gregg liked to fight with. The hallway they were in seemed to act the same way, with its bright colors and impossible twists. The door she’d come through had disappeared, trapping her in that hall with the grinning thing._

_In hindsight, entering the door that kept popping up in her room probably hadn’t been a great idea, but… you can’t just stick a weird door in somebody’s room over and over without their permission! After a couple weeks, she’d had enough, yanking the door open and fully intending to give the door’s owner a piece of her mind. Now, though, her mind felt a little bit like it was falling to pieces._

_“What are you?” The words were a monumental effort to get out, most of her mental energy focused on trying to keep from completely falling apart. “Why does your stupid door keep showing up in my room?”_

_The thing laughed, a horrible grating noise that made her want to rip her ears out._

_“You can call me Michael. I’ve been waiting for us to meet, Mae Borowski.”_

_Okay, it- he?- knew her name, and had apparently been waiting for her. That couldn’t mean anything good, right? Her head pounded again and she closed her eyes, hoping that not looking at “Michael” (what kind of name was that for a supernatural horror, anyway?) might make her headache a bit better._

_“How the hell do you know my name? What do you want with me?”_

_“Of course I know your name, little Mae. You are one of my marked, and a very special one at that.”_

_“…Marked by what?”_

_“Why, the Spiral, of course! Unreality, illusions, things falling apart. You do have quite a bit of experience with that, don’t you?”_

_She’d only been half-listening, but at that last part she opened her eyes, watching in horror as her hands shifted into those terrible shapes she was all too familiar with. Her breakdown in eight grade, her awful time at college… had those experiences been Michael’s fault? Her head screamed in pain again, and she fell to her knees. She wasn’t sure she could stand being in this place much longer. Teeth tightly clenched, she tried to speak again._

_“Why… did you… do this… to me?”_

_There was that horrible grin again. “As I said, you’re very special. I have great plans for you, Mae Borowski. First, though, I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine. The_ _Archivist will want to hear all about your experience with that cult.”_

_She could barely process anything he was saying, her head too full of shapes and pain to make sense of any of it. Just as she was about to pass out, the yellow door reappeared at the end of the hallway. Gathering up the last of her strength, she ran over to it, throwing it open and running out._

Okay, so Michael knew who Mae was, knew about her dissociations, could appear in her room whenever he wanted, and had “great plans” for her. All in all, not a great situation. Mae cursed herself for not asking the Archivist about Michael or if there was a way to get rid of him when she had the chance. She’d been too freaked out by the whole experience and too eager to get home to even really think about it. Now the only person who knew about Michael and maybe could’ve helped her was a whole friggin’ ocean away.

Mae hadn’t told her parents or her friends about any of it. There’s no way any of them would believe her, and even if they did, what the hell were they supposed to do against some sort of door-making, reality-destroying monster? She’d attacked the door with her trusty baseball bat after returning home, only to find after half an hour that she hadn’t made a dent in it. Hadn’t even chipped the paint. There wasn’t any information online about how to get rid of door monsters (none that she could find, anyway) and she doubted that the more “typical” ways of dealing with the supernatural would work (a line of salt didn’t seem very useful, unless Michael was secretly a slug). So now, a full five days after giving her statement, Mae was essentially stuck in the same position that she had been in a week ago. She had no idea how to deal with Michael, nor any idea what he had in store for her. She did know one thing, though: she wasn’t going back through that damn door no matter how many times it showed up. She wasn’t going to play his game. She would just ignore his door, and he was just going to have to suck it up. It seemed like a pretty solid plan.

At least, it did until he stepped through the door and into her room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mae continues to have a bad time, and Michael continues to be a bastard

_Mae was stuck in those terrible halls again. No matter how long she ran, or how many corridors she explored, she never found the yellow door, only more twists and turns. How long had she been running, anyway? It felt like both three weeks and only a handful of minutes._

_“It doesn’t matter how long you run. You can’t escape from me in my own halls.” Mae couldn’t see Michael anywhere, but she could feel his voice inside her head, each word causing a dull pain. She took a deep breath, trying to force down the panic rising inside her._ ‘That’s it Mae, c’mon, just breathe.’ _In and out, in and out, in and-_

_Shapes. Nothing but shapes, all around her._

_Her hands, turning into circles and rectangles. The pictures on the walls, shifting into grotesque squares. Michael, now standing in front of her, a writhing mass of colors she could barely recognize as shapes. A wide, white mass that was probably a grin loomed over her, growing wider as it watched her fall apart. She glared up at that damned grin. What she wouldn’t give to wipe it off Michael’s “face”._

_“Is that the worst you can do?” Normally, Mae hated that she had, at some point during college, become used to the shapes that relentlessly attacked her. Now, though, she was almost glad for it. Sure, watching reality crumble into shapes and colors around her_ sucked, _and tended to send her into a panic, but at least it was a panic she mostly knew how to handle. Michael was going to have to do a lot better than “more of the same” if he wanted to get to her._

_An ear-splitting laugh echoed inside her ears._

_“Ohhhh, little creature… I’m just getting started.”_

_The pain in her head, previously a dull thrumming, began to grow in intensity until her skull felt like it had been stuck in a vice-clamp. She tried to scream but no sounds came out, only shapes, splattering onto what had previously been a floor but was now merely another collection of shapes, just like everything else in the hall. Just like Michael. Just like Mae._

She sat up, gasping for air. Her heart felt like it was about to burst out of her chest, and she forced herself to try and take deep breaths. ‘ _In and out, in and out’_. It took far longer than she would’ve liked, but Mae was eventually able to get her breathing down to a semi-normal rate. _‘You’re okay, you’re okay’_ , she thought to herself, trying to stamp out the last of her panic. _‘Just another nightmare, same as every night.’_

Ever since she’d given her statement, Mae had had what was, essentially, the same kind of nightmare every night for close to two weeks now. Stuck in the halls, Michael taunting her, reality falling apart, waking up in a panic, blah blah blah. It was starting to feel almost predictable, or as close to “predictable” as anything involving a reality-destroying supernatural being could be. If things stayed like that long enough, Mae could probably even get used to it. The door and the nightmares would become just another annoyance in life, like doing the dishes, or having to pay taxes. Hell, if Michael was going to take up residence in her bedroom, maybe she should give _him_ her dirty dishes. It seemed like a fair enough trade-off: “If you’re going to be a creep and give me nightmares, you could at least do some of my chores for me.” There had to be worse roommates out there, right? Probably not _much_ worse, admittedly, but still.

Despite everything, the idea of having a supernatural creature as one’s roommate was actually kind of funny to Mae. “’Hey, I know you’re an inhuman monster with unfathomable power, but you’ve still gotta take out the trash occasionally.’” She snickered, looking up to share the idea with the door. “How do you feel about being stuck rooming with me, you stupid-“

She blinked, staring at the wall in shock.

The door was ajar.

In all the times the door had appeared, it had never once been open. She had opened it to confront Michael, sure, and again to come back to her room, but other than those two times, the door had remained very firmly shut. Mae definitely hadn’t been the one to open it this time, so clearly, Michael was doing something new.

So much for “predictable”.

Not taking her eyes off the door, she slowly reached down to grab the baseball bat she kept next to the bed. She wasn’t confident it would do all that much against a creature that could screw with reality, but having the illusion of protection was a little comforting. She got up, cautiously inching her way toward the door.

“Michael?” Mae wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of having another ear-destroying conversation with him, but she wasn’t sure she had a choice. “Whatcha’ up to, buddy?”

“Buudddyyy?” The door swung fully open, revealing a grinning Michael. “Arrreee we buddies, little Borowski?”

“No, but it seemed nicer than calling you a fucking creep, which would actually be accurate.”

“Hmmmmm.” Michael tilted his head, regarding Mae with what she was pretty sure was an amused expression. He chuckled. “Do you _honestly_ think that weapon will do much against _me_? You make me laugh, helpless creature.”

Pain reverberated inside Mae’s head. She grit her teeth, glaring at him.

“Even if it doesn’t do much, I’m _not_ going down without a fight.” She raised the bat, preparing to strike.

“Is that so?” Michael smirked down at her. “In that case, you will be a far more _interesting_ meal than usual”. He stepped fully out of the door and into her room, looming over Mae. At his full height, he was about six and a half feet tall, almost a whole foot and a half taller than she was. He tapped his horrendously sharp fingers together in anticipation of a fight. She hesitated.

‘ _Okay, giant man with knives for hands wants to eat me, that’s not great._ ’ Mae began mentally weighing her options. ‘ _Plan 1, fight him, probably get my ass kicked and then get horribly eaten_.’ Not a great choice, all things considered. She looked around the room, trying to determine if there was anything there that could actually help. Throwing a quick glance behind her, she could see that the door to her room was slightly open. ‘ _Plan 2, run downstairs, get him to follow me out of the house, and then start screaming bloody murder and hope the neighbors call Aunt Mall Cop?’_ That one still didn’t seem very appealing, but trying to get away definitely seemed preferable to being freakin’ _eaten_. She lunged for her door, throwing it open and running down the staircase, down towards-

…Down towards a twisted corridor decorated in garish colors. _‘Shit.’_ The door she’d gone through had not been her bedroom door. _‘Shit, shit, shit.’_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mae winds up in a surprisingly familiar place

_Okay. Don’t panic._ A sentiment easier said than done. _Managed to get out of here twice before, I can do it again, right?_

Mae set off down the corridor, her right hand curled in a death grip around her baseball bat. Though she couldn’t see or hear him at the moment, Michael had to have followed her through the door, and she didn’t exactly want to fight in a place where he had the home-court advantage. _‘’Course, if you can bend reality to your will, you probably have home-court advantage everywhere.’_ She scowled at the thought. ' _Not helpful, brain.’_

Mae walked the halls for what could have been either ten minutes or six hours. They were the same as ever: horribly bright colors, twists that didn’t actually lead anywhere, the gross sound of carpet crunching beneath her feet. The only thing different was that Michael seemed to have disappeared. As much as Mae was relieved to be free of him for the moment, she wasn’t all that sure his absence was a good thing. For all she knew he was hiding somewhere, delighting in her fear, watching and waiting for her to give up. _‘Asshole.’_ Fed up with his stupid game, she let out a shout of frustration.

“If you’re going to kill me, fucking do it already! If not, let me out!”

She paused, waiting for a response.

Silence.

Mae bit back a groan of frustration. Of _course_ he wasn’t going to make this easy for her, of _course_ he’d want to drag this whole bullshit process out for as long as possible just to screw with her, of _course_ escaping couldn’t be as simple as-

…as simple as turning a corner and seeing a yellow door.

_Huh_. Well. She was already stuck in a nightmare realm, going through the door couldn’t make things _worse_ , right?

Mae opened the door and took a cautious step outside. The room she’d walked into was painted a dullish beige, a welcome relief from the headache-inducing colors of the corridors. Looking around, she could see several filing cabinets scattered about, a normal-looking door leading to what looked like a break room, and several desks, three of which had occupants, all of whom were staring at her in shock.

Unsure of what to say, Mae awkwardly stared back. She didn’t think there was an easy, or even believable, way to explain why she’d suddenly appeared in some random off- wait. No. This wasn’t “some random office”.

This was where Michael had dropped her off the first time. Not in that specific spot, but close enough that she’d quickly found the room after deciding to explore the building. _The Magma Institute, right? Or something like that?_

Mae realized with a start that she was still locked in a stare-off with the employees. She should probably say something, make some attempt to explain what was going on, right?

“Uh… hi?” She mentally face-palmed. _Real eloquent, Mae._

One of the employees, a Hispanic man who Mae didn’t remember seeing last time, stood up. He was tall, with a nice face and dark brown hair. While he wasn’t super muscular, he definitely looked like he worked out fairly often. _The kind of guy that would be fun to wrestle with,_ she decided. Looking closely, she could several small, oddly-shaped scars on his neck and face. _Huh, wonder what happened there?_

The man turned around, calling towards another door located at the end of the room.

“Hey, Bossman?”

The door flew open and the man Mae recognized as the Archivist came storming out, a scowl on his face.

“Tim, if you need something from me, I would much rather-“ His tirade stopped dead as his eyes landed on her, and she squirmed under his gaze. Something about his stare felt a bit more… _piercing_ than that of any of the others’. He frowned at her.

“You’re here again.” He framed it as a statement, but Mae could hear the question behind the words.

“Yeah. Turns out Michael wasn’t done with me.”

She wasn’t sure if anyone besides the Archivist would know what she meant, but judging from the “oh shit” looks on everyone’s faces, they’d also met- or at least knew of- Michael. A tense silence filled the room, and the atmosphere suddenly seemed more oppressive than it had before. After several seconds, another employee spoke up.

“What do you mean Michael’s ‘not done with you?’” Mae didn’t recognize this employee either; she was a black woman, with dark, wavy hair that fell to her shoulders, and round glasses framing her eyes. She was rather pretty, and Mae swallowed, trying to ignore the heat in her cheeks. _Why is everyone in this place hot?!_

Despite his sour demeanor and uncomfortably sharp stare, Mae would even call the Archivist attractive. He was Indian, fairly short (only 5’5”, though that meant he was still a good four inches taller than Mae), and skinny enough that she could probably snap him like a twig if she really wanted to. His black hair, partly pulled up in a bun, had a few streaks of grey visible, and his sweater vest/dress shirt combo added nicely to the whole “dignified scholar” shtick. Even through his intense frown and guarded posture, Mae could see a hint of softness on his face, as though he was actually worried about her. On his neck were several scars, the pale shapes a stark contrast against his dark skin, and it occurred to her that they looked uncomfortably similar to the scars Tim bore. _What the hell happened here?_

“Michael brought her to the archives a few weeks ago to give a statement, apparently.” The Archivist’s voice startled Mae out of her thoughts. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I assume something else has happened since then?”

_That’s one way of putting it._ “If having a door constantly appearing in my room and hearing Michael say he wants to eat me counts as ‘something else’, then yeah, I’d say something else has happened.”

The Archivist took his glasses off and ran a hand over his face, sighing deeply.

“Right, why don’t you come into my office and we can discuss-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Tim put his hands up in a ‘time-out’ motion. “Mind bringing the rest of us up to speed on the first time Michael dropped you off here?”

“Uh..” As much as the other employees deserved an explanation, Mae didn’t really want to have to explain the whole “death cult of conservative uncles” story. There was no fun or easy to explain that your little town used to be the home of a cult, and that you accidentally murdered all the members. Seeming to pick up on her reluctance, the Archivist thankfully offered her a way out.

“If you’d prefer, we could all listen to your statement together, and you can explain everything that’s happened since afterwards?”

Mae gave him a relieved smile. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

He nodded. “Alright. Seeing as how we’re going to have a long day ahead of us, would you mind making some tea, Martin?”

“Oh! Y-yeah, of course!” Martin, who’d been quiet this whole time, was the only other employee that Mae recognized, having run into him the first time she’d been here. He was pale, with fluffy ginger hair, and fairly chubby. _Bet he’s great to cuddle with. Nice and soft._ As he headed towards what was probably the break room, he stopped by Mae.

“Do you normally drink tea?”

She looked at him in confusion. “You mean like… unsweet tea? That sort of tea?”

Now it was his turn to look confused. He opened his mouth, a questioning look on his face, but hesitated before finally shaking his head. “Er… never mind. Would you like some water?”

Now that she thought about it, she _was_ actually quite thirsty. And hungry. And exhausted. _Guess running through a nightmare corridor takes a lot out of you._ One problem at a time, though.

“Yeah, that would be great, thanks.”

Martin smiled and set off again towards the break room. Everyone else took that as the cue to file into the Archivist’s office, standing around awkwardly as he dug through the various papers and tapes cluttering his desk. Finally, he managed to dig it out of a desk drawer, just in time for Martin to return with a tray of drinks. As everyone took their respective beverage, the Archivist stuck the tape in the tape recorder and pressed play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OG Sasha is alive in this because it's my AU and I get to make the rules


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introductions are made and a course of action is decided

“Wait! Uh, statement ends!”

The Archivist reached over and shut the tape recorder off with a _click_. Mae couldn’t quite decipher the expression he was making, but he certainly didn’t seem _happy_ about the situation. None of the employees did, really; the rest of them had various degrees of fear and concern showing on their faces as they stared at Mae.

After several seconds of uncomfortable silence, Tim spoke up. “Right. Okay, so… Mae, was it?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Could I maybe get you guys’ names, too?”

“”Course. Tim Stoker.” He held a hand out towards her, and she gripped it tightly. “Nice to meet you, Mae.”

“Nice to meet you too.” _Nice to meet anyone who doesn’t want to kill me._ Letting go of his hand, she looked around at the rest of the employees. One by one, they reached out to introduce themselves.

“Sasha James.”

“Martin Blackwood.”

“Jonathan Sims, but you may call me Jon.” He let go of Mae’s hand, but his sharp eyes remained fixed on her. “Now that that’s done, let’s talk about why you’ve come back. You said that Michael is still going after you?”

Mae grimaced. “Pretty much. It wasn’t so bad at first, ‘cause even if the door kept appearing, he stayed in his halls instead of barging into my room, so I just ignored him for a couple weeks. Didn’t really have any other choice, since I didn’t want to go back through the door and trying to destroy it didn’t work. Then, last night- or this morning, I guess?- I woke up and the door was open, and then Michael was in my room. I wanted to fight him, at first-“ She held up her trusty baseball bat, the weight of it in her hands providing some comfort. “-but then he said he wanted to eat me and I decided it would probably be better to get the hell out of dodge. I tried to run out of the house, but he put the door where my bedroom door should’ve been, so I got stuck in the hallways, and next thing I know, I’m back here.” She leaned back against the wall, finished with her ramble.

Sasha frowned, mulling the story over. “He said he wanted to _eat_ you?”

“Basically.”

“But then why would he let you escape? I mean, it’s definitely good that you didn’t get eaten!” She backtracked, holding her hands up in front of her. “It just doesn’t make any sense for him to trap you and then just let you go in one piece.”

“…I mean…” Mae squirmed in discomfort. “He also said I would be a ‘far more interesting meal than usual’, so maybe he’s just screwing with me before he kills me?”

Sasha shuddered at the thought. “Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that point.”

Tim frowned. “How do we stop it from getting there, though? If the door can’t be destroyed and we can’t stop Michael from showing up when or wherever he pleases, then where do we go from here?”

The room fell silent, and a sense of dread began to permeate the air. After what felt like an eternity, Jon spoke up, his voice authoritative.

“Sasha, you and I will go through as many statements as we can and see if there’s any information on Michael. Tim, Martin, go up to the library and see if you can find anything there. Mae, there’s a storage closet nearby with a cot in it. You can go and take a nap there.”

Mae stared at him in indignation. _Naptime? What am I, five?_ “Not that sleep doesn’t sound appealing right now, but _I’m_ the one being chased by a monster, shouldn’t I get to help research the thing that’s trying to kill me?”

Undeterred by her annoyance, Jon continued. “With all due respect, you look and sound exhausted. While that is understandable given the circumstances, your attempts at research would be much more helpful to us after you’ve gotten some rest.”

She glared at him for several seconds before finally turning her head away. “…Fine.”

Satisfied, Jon turned towards Martin. “Would you please show her where the closet is, Martin?”

“Sure!” Martin stood up from the chair he’d been occupying and moved to exit the office, Mae following behind him, baseball bat in hand. It didn’t take long before they were standing in front of a closet door. Mae opened the door and poker her head inside. The room was somewhat small, with a couple of boxes shoved up against one part of the wall, and a cot with a pillow and a pair of blankets stacked on top of it shoved up against the back wall.

“I know it doesn’t look very comfortable,” Martin said. “but I promise it’s okay once you get used to it.”

“What, do you regularly sleep on the job or something?” Mae asked, surprised. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who slacked off at work.

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” Martin wrung his hands together, discomfort evident on his face. “It’s just… I had to live in the archives for a little while. I got accustomed to sleeping here pretty quickly.”

“Oh.” Mae stamped down the urge to press him about why he’d been living _here_ , of all places. If his reaction to her question was any indication, it wasn’t a story he liked sharing. “Well, any room that doesn’t have a door monster in it is a good room to me.” She moved to rearrange the blankets and pillow, placing her bat near the end of the cot by her head. Crawling under the covers, she turned back towards the door.

“Thanks, Martin. Hope you find something useful in the library.”

He smiled. “Yeah, you and me both. Hope you have a good nap.” With that, he closed the door, leaving Mae alone. She rested her head against the pillow with a sigh. _Nothing better than the threat of being eaten by a monster to help you fall asleep._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mae gets a new living arrangement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses for how long this took, whoops.

_Running. Twisted corridors. Bright colors, making her head hurt. More running, never ending. A hand, far too sharp, reaching out to grab her. Grabbing, pain, screaming…_

Mae shot up with a jolt, looking around frantically. After several seconds, she realized she was still in the same room she’d been in earlier, and she breathed a sigh of relief. _Just a dream, Mae._

She stood up and stretched before grabbing her bat and exiting the room. As she made her way back to the office, she could hear voices talking. She stopped outside the door, listening closely.

“-at this for close to five hours and we still haven’t found anything. I hate to say it, but maybe we should call it quits for the night and try again tomorrow.”

“Sasha, we can’t just give up, I’m sure there’s something here that can-“

“The statements will still be here in the morning, Jon. Besides, it’s been a long day, we’re all tired, and I seem to recall you saying something about how research will go more smoothly if we’re not exhausted?”

Before Jon could retort, Mae walked into the room and cleared her throat. Both employees looked up at her, startled.

“Couldn’t help but overhear that things aren’t going well,” she said.

Jon sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing a hand over his face. “No. I’m afraid that so far, there’s not much information here on Michael.”

Mae shrugged. “Hey, not your fault. Not like you can just google this stuff.”

“Would make life a lot easier if we could,” Jon muttered. He put his glasses back on and stood up from the desk he’d been occupying. “I’m going to go see if Martin and Tim have found anything. If not, I suppose we’ll have to stop for the night.” He walked out of the office, leaving the two women alone.

“So…” Mae began, trying to make conversation. “Are you guys monster hunters or something? Cause none of you seemed weirded out by any of this.”

Sasha pursed her lips, a considering look on her face. “We’re not _exactly_ monster hunters. Mainly we take statements from people who’ve supposedly had a supernatural experience, and then we do research to see if there’s any merit to the stories we get. Most of the statements we get are fake, but as you’ve figured out by now, sometimes the monsters are real, and in those cases we what we can to stop them.”

“So you’re more like monster researchers?” Mae asked. “That’s actually pretty cool.”

That earned a smile from Sasha. “I guess it does sound more interesting when you put it that way.” She leaned forward in her chair. “How about you? Are you a student, or…?”

“Yeah, I’m taking some classes at a nearby community college to try to get my associate’s degree, and then hopefully I’ll go back to actual college at some point.” Mae didn’t think that was a very impressive answer, but at least it was better than she’d been doing two years ago.

Sasha looked like she had more questions, but before she could ask, Jon returned to the office, Tim and Martin in tow. All three looked absolutely defeated, and Sasha winced in sympathy.

“No luck, then?”

“None,” Tim grumbled, frustration in his tone.

“We’ll have to keep looking tomorrow,” Jon said. “In the meantime Mae, there is the issue of where you’re to be sleeping tonight. We obviously don’t have any way of sending you home, and I assume you’d rather not stay in the archives?”

Right, she was stuck in London, wasn’t she? Now that she thought about it, yeah, she’d rather not spend the night alone in the spooky old office. “You would be right about that.”

Jon nodded. “I thought so. In that case, you’re welcome to stay at my flat for the time being.”

“Cool, thanks.” Mae had no idea what a “flat” was, but it had to be better than this place.

Jon’s apartment – or at least his living room – was not much better than the archives.

Granted, it wasn’t _worse_ , either, just… kinda depressing. There was a couch, a coffee table, and a TV, but other than that, the room was basically empty except for the papers scattered all over.

“Apologies for the mess,” he said, moving to pick up the documents. “I have a habit of bringing home work with me.”

_Yeah, you seem like the kinda guy who would do that,_ Mae thought, though she didn’t say so aloud. Probably not smart to be snarky to the man housing her.

“Hey, I’m not judging,” she replied instead. _It’s not like my room is the pinnacle of cleanliness, either_.

“The bathroom’s down the hall and to your right, if you’d like to shower,” Jon said, finishing with the papers. “I can lend you some clothes for the night and we can stop by a shop to get you more tomorrow.”

Another problem with being stuck in London: Mae didn’t have any possessions except her baseball bat and the clothes literally off her back. Hell, she hadn’t even put on her boots before trying to face Michael. She was grateful that Tim had offered to drive her and Jon to the latter’s apartment; it was either that or take the subway, and the idea of riding the train in just socks wasn’t exactly appealing.

“Yeah, that would be great, thanks,” she said, following Jon as he went down the hall and into his bedroom. She waited outside the door as he rummaged through his belongings, and after a couple minutes he returned with a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants.

“Here you are,” he said, handing the clothing over. “I hope these fit alright.”

She hoped so too; while he was taller than her, he was also a good bit skinnier. Regardless, his clothes would have to do for tonight, and she thanked him before stepping into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, Mae emerged, feeling more energetic after a hot shower. She entered the living room to find him sitting on the couch, hunched over a statement. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, he looked up at her.

“Are the clothes okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, they’re fine.” They were definitely snug, but not horribly so.

“Good.” Jon placed the statement on the coffee table and stood up. “What do you want for dinner? I’m not exactly a gourmet chef, but I should be able to make something decent.”

She shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“Alright.” He walked over to the kitchen, opened a cabinet, and pulled out a pot. He filled the pot with water and set it on the stovetop to boil before moving to the pantry and pulling out a box of pasta. While he waited for the water to boil, he stood in the kitchen entryway and looked at Mae.

“Mind telling me a bit more about yourself?”

That oddly sharp stare was back, and Mae tried not to squirm. _Feels almost like he can see into my soul._

“Well…,” she began. “I’m still living with my parents, but I’m enrolled in community college, so I got that going for me. I have a job at this taco place in town, and I play in a band with my friends-“

“What do you play?”

“You mean my instrument, or the kind of music we make?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“I play the bass,” Mae replied. “And we’re kinda punk, but we don’t really have a set style of music? It’s sort of sporadic.”

“Hmmm.” Jon had looked rather sharp at first, but looking closer, Mae could now see excitement shining in his eyes. Before she could say anything else, though, he stuck his head back in the kitchen and, seeing that the water was boiling, went to cook the pasta. Before long, the meal was ready, and the pair ate on the couch in silence. Once they finished, Jon turned to Mae.

“If you’d like, I have a guitar you could borrow,” he said.

“Oh man, that would be great. I could play you one of my band’s songs.”

“Alright.” Jon disappeared down the hallway and returned a couple minutes later with an electric guitar. It looked somewhat old, but well-loved, and was covered in stickers from various venues.

“This is really cool,” Mae said, carefully taking the guitar from him. “Are you secretly a member of some crazy rock band or something?”

“Not exactly, no,” he replied, though it sounded too quick to be truthful. “Let’s just say that my days at university were somewhat wild.”

“Huh.” _Last person I would’ve expected that from_. She set about tuning the guitar, making a mental note to grill him about his secret band later. After a few minutes, she stood up, ready to perform.

“Okay, this one’s called _Die Anywhere Else_. Ready?”

Jon nodded, and Mae began playing. Even though their band didn’t perform much anymore, what with Gregg and Angus having moved away, she still tried to keep up with practice as best she could. It must’ve worked, because as she played, she was relieved to hear that she actually sounded pretty decent. When she was done, she took a dramatic bow, and Jon quietly clapped.

“Well done,” he told her. “Bit of a grim song, though, isn’t it?”

She shrugged. “Hey, if you grew up in a town like Possum Springs, you’d want to escape, too.”

“Yes, I suppose one would be eager to flee a town filled with death cultists.”

“Heh, no argument there.”

Later that night, Mae laid on the couch, trying to fall asleep. She kept replaying the guitar performance in her head, hoping the phrase “die anywhere else” wasn’t as much of an omen as it had felt like while she was playing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to come yell with me about TMA and/or NITW, my writing blog is bluebirdishere on tumblr!


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